


Homesick

by BlasphemousProphet



Category: Glee
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, at NYADA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 01:52:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlasphemousProphet/pseuds/BlasphemousProphet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place during Blaine's first year at NYADA. Canon divergence. What if Kurt and Blaine never got back together but still ended up at NYADA?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

They had promised they would stay friends, even after the breakup, but it was never quite the same. It wasn’t just holding Kurt, kissing him, or touching him that Blaine missed. Blaine missed the feeling of having a best friend, someone to go see Judy Garland movies with, someone to critique his dance moves from a place of love, someone he could always count on for honest and helpful advice.  
Kurt showed Blaine around NYADA and the first week there, as Blaine lay in his bed at night in his lonely apartment, he felt like things were actually going to be okay. Kurt felt like home to him. With Kurt showing him around New York didn’t feel quite so scary. But Kurt was often busy with school and work and Blaine often ended up waiting around in his Bushwick apartment for him, reading lines with Rachel for Funny Girl.  
“I’m sorry, I have no idea where he is,” Rachel would say, opening the door apologetically.  
“That’s okay,” Blaine would say. He would sit down with Santana for a Facts of Life marathon and by the time Kurt got back he would already be asleep on the couch snuggled next to Santana.  
It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t miss Blaine. It wasn’t that Kurt didn’t want to show Blaine around. It was just…before Blaine had gotten to NYADA New York had felt like Kurt’s to conquer. Now Blaine was in New York too, and he was pulling off the whole NYADA thing way better than Kurt had. Blaine got in with one audition. He was selected for the freshman winter showcase. Carmen Tibideaux invited him to dinner. He was always followed around by a gaggle of girls who didn’t seem to care that he was gay and a gaggle of guys that did. Kurt usually wandered NYADA by himself, or with Rachel or one of the Adam’s Apples. Blaine would always wave to him and Kurt would wave back. And that was that. 

“Why do you even bother?” Santana snapped. “He’s clearly over your weepy puppy faces and he doesn’t want-“  
“Santana!” yelled Rachel.  
“I mean, I love you coming here. Who else would tell me what not to wear? But Blaine, come on, facts are facts. Face it. It’s over. And I’ll be honest, you’re better off without Lady Hummel,” said Santana.  
Blaine shrugged. 

Blaine could hear Rent songs wafting out of the auditorium. He had never considered the possibility that NYADA might have its own misfit Glee club. He took a seat.  
“Hey, you,” someone tapped his shoulder.  
“Me?”  
“You’re Blaine Anderson, ex-Warbler, aren’t you?”  
“How did you know?”  
“I keep my eye on incoming talent. I’m Adam.”  
They shook hands. “A friend of mine went to Dalton for a while, so I’ve heard all about it,” added Adam.  
“Is he here?”  
“Not today, but I’ll make sure to introduce you,” said Adam. “How would you feel about being part of the Adam’s Apples?”  
The people on stage were watching the exchange. They were bedraggled and exhausted looking but there was a gleam in their eyes that Blaine recognized from New Directions.  
“I’ll think about it,” said Blaine.  
“You better,” said Adam, grinning, patting Blaine on the shoulder before jumping back onstage for a solo. 

A week later  
“Oi! Blaine!”  
“Oh, hey, Adam,” said Blaine.  
“You want to meet your brother?”  
“What?”  
“Don’t look so surprised. I meant your Dalton brother. You two might know each other. He’s only a year ahead of you. Kurt! Come here!”  
The figure at the water fountain straightened up. His fur cap, neon green skinny jeans paired with striped socks and loafers were unmistakable. It was Kurt Hummel.  
“Blaine?”  
“Kurt?”  
“Wait, you two know each other?” asked Adam.  
“Yeah,” said Kurt slowly. “You’re joing the Adam’s Apples?”  
“I might be,” said Blaine.  
“You have to! There are so many duets I have in mind for the two of you! Say you’ll join!” begged Adam.  
“Can you give us a minute?” asked Kurt.  
“Oh. Right. Sure. I’ll be in rehearsals.”  
“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a Glee club?” asked Blaine. “We could have done it together-“  
“Not everything is about you, Blaine!” snapped Kurt. “Maybe I wanted one place in my life that was free of Blaine Anderson since you’ve taken over NYADA and my apartment!”  
“I thought you were-“  
“I just want one thing for myself! Is that okay?”  
“I asked you if you were okay with me coming to NYADA. You said it was fine.”  
“I thought it would be!”  
“And now?”  
“Blaine, look. I just need some space. I’m not like you or Rachel. I don’t just get things. I have to…work harder than you do.”  
“You have no idea how hard I work,” snapped Blaine, his face reddening.  
“Blaine, I know you,” said Kurt gently. “You rehearse for fun. You can belt out a breathtaking solo at a second’s notice. You suck all the air out of a room when you walk in. I’m just not ready to be competing with you again.”  
Kurt walked away, his heart pounding. He had never spoken to Blaine that way but there was something true about it, something he sensed Blaine should have heard a long time ago. But his cruelty shocked him and Kurt couldn’t fall asleep that night thinking about Blaine’s face as Kurt had yelled at him. 

Blaine tried to move on. He dated some guy named Elliot for a month. The applause for his performance of “I Will Always Love You” was deafening but Kurt wasn’t in the crowd. The student paper ran an article that said ‘Remember the name Blaine Anderson. One of these days you’ll be hearing it everywhere,’ that got Carmen Tibideaux’s seal of approval. 

Six weeks later.  
Who the hell could be knocking at one in the morning? Blaine staggered to the door, bleary eyed. “Yeah?” he said. “I didn’t order anything.”  
“It’s Kurt,” came the thin voice, sliding under the door and all around Blaine.  
“Kurt?” Blaine opened the door.  
“I’m sorry,” said Kurt. “I shouldn’t have said the things I said to you. I shouldn’t have missed your performance. Rachel said it was amazing.”  
“Thanks,” said Blaine.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right before Season 6.

"I can't believe you're going back there," muttered Santana, arms crossed, leaning against the door. Kurt continued packing, refusing to turn around. "Don't let her suck you back in there," said Santana, crossing the room. "Just because she failed doesn't mean you have to."  
"She needs me," said Kurt simply. "And I can't be in NYADA right now, watching everyone kiss Blaine's ass."  
"You're a star," countered Santana.  
Kurt turned around. "So are you," he said. "I never told you this but I'm glad you got Funny Girl. You deserve it. A real star doesn't need to prove it all the time by being a diva."  
"I'll miss you, Lady Hummel," said Santana. "Who's going to marathon Sex and the City with me?"  
"Your girlfriend? Cassie July? Mike? Tina?"  
"I meant you," said Santana. "Come on, you're going be late for this bullshit."  
Kurt stopped at the door. "Should I tell Rachel you said hi?"  
Santana snorted. "You can tell her to-"

"Alright," said Kurt, secretly gratified. The apartment was quiet after he left.

 

Rachel strode through McKinley, feeling close to her old self-the one she’d been about ten years ago, before everything went wrong- putting up posters that reminded students to stay out of the auditorium until the reunion week was over. “You look the same, you sing the same, you still want the same things, don’t you?” Kurt often asked her. “So go get them.”  
“It’s not that easy,” Rachel would mumble.  
“Finn wouldn’t want you to give up your dreams to mourn for him.”  
“That’s not what’s happening.”  
“Yes, it is.”  
“Look, Kurt, can you just…leave it? At least until after the reunion?”  
Kurt couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up over and over again. It wasn’t like he was ever going to be the male version of her, Rachel thought sourly. Blaine replaced her a long time ago. But everyone was coming to this reunion (except Will, who was facing sexual harassment charges from a former McKinley student, a fact which surprised nobody in New Directions but Brittany) and the past was…in the past. Even if Rachel insisted on living in it most of the time.  
(Rachel often stopped by the locker that used to be Finn’s. it belonged to some computer gamer now and it was stuffed with batteries and trash, whose owner would scowl at Rachel whenever they made eye contact.) But it was high school reunion time. Rachel slammed Finn’s locker closed and drove home to change.

“You're not nervous about seeing Kurt?” smirked Sebastian, straightening Blaine’s tie in the mirror. Sebastian couldn't pretend he wasn't a bit intimidated by Lady Hummel's weirdly close relationship with Blaine, that famous chemistry that pulled them together no matter who they were with-  
“Aren’t you?”  
“Not really,” said Sebastian. “When I was in the hospital-“  
Blaine placed a comforting hand on his arm and Sebastian smiled at him-  
“Kurt visited me and told me I would be happy, with kids and a dog and a devastatingly handsome partner. And he was mostly right.”  
“About the dog?”  
“About the partner.”  
Blaine reached for Sebastian.  
“We can’t,” said Sebastian regretfully. “Our flight leaves in ten minutes.”  
“Later,” Blaine promised.  
Sebastian swung Blaine’s hand as they walked toward the tarmac, feeling lighter than he had in weeks. He was going back to Ohio a different man.

“Do I look the same?” asked Quinn flatly.  
“Better,” said Puck. “Get excited. We’re going home.”  
“It’s not…”  
“Oh, come on, Quinn! Can’t you cheer up for five minutes?”  
Quinn glared at him.  
“You like it, going back there, remembering all…that?”  
Puck was quiet. “Yeah, actually I do. Most of the time.”  
Quinn shrugged and slumped back into her seat.

“Screw the high school reunion. They can have it without us,” Santana snapped, tapping her foot manically.  
“There is no high school reunion without us,” Brittany reminded her.  
“Good point, genius.”  
“Thank you.”  
At night, under cover of darkness, Santana had confessed that she was afraid to go back, that somehow, after Finn’s death, she had become afraid of the past, as though his loss painted all those hopeful years into gray matter. Brittany had kissed her and stayed up with her through the night, holding Santana’s hand while Santana fought her oldest demons, and reminding Santana as many times as she had to that she was loved, loved, loved and even if she didn’t have anything else she would still have Brittany forever.  
Santana took in a deep breath and grabbed Brittany’s bag for her.  
“I forgot to pack shoes,” Brittany announced.  
“I packed them.” Santana told her, smiling faintly.  
“You know me so well.”  
“You know me better.”  
“You know me best.”  
“I like you best.”  
“I love you best.”  
….  
…

“You excited?” asked Sam. Mercedes rubbed her face into his shirt. “So excited,” she yawned.  
“Shh,” whispered Sam, his hands massaging her back. “Go to sleep. I’ll tell when we’re there.”  
“I love you,” mumbled Mercedes.  
Sam stared at the road. He had just heard about Blaine and Karofsky. He still wasn’t sure how he felt. He just wanted Blaine to be happy. Blaine had sounded happy on the phone. All Sam wanted for Blaine was to be as happy as he was.  
They passed by a billboard of Sam.  
“How is that advertising jeans?” muttered Mercedes, suddenly awake.  
“I’m holding a pair,” said Sam. “You don’t like it?”  
Mercedes stared at her hands. Sam was surrounded by female models, all white and beautiful, putting their hands on his chest and reaching for him and-  
“Hey,” said Sam. “I only want you. It’s just stupid work.”  
“No, I like it,” said Mercedes. “You look…hot.”  
“Careful, I’m driving,” said Sam. “You can’t distract me.”  
“Am I distracting you?”

Kurt stared out the window. He had stayed in New York when Rachel left, when he dumped Blaine, when Mercedes left, when Mike came, after Finn died, all the time. New York still didn’t feel like home. It still didn’t make sense to him anymore. He was a background singer on Broadway, which was more success than he’d found in years, going on the stage, hearing the crowds roar, watching the actors move around while he stood as a human prop. Kurt found it hard to talk to Rachel these days. She wasn’t even trying anymore. She was teaching Glee club. Kurt found the idea almost too depressing to bear, though sometimes it made him happy.  
“You okay?” asked Mike.  
“Oh, yeah,” said Kurt halfheartedly. “Nervous to see Tina? She’s coming with a boyfriend.”

Mike shrugged. He had always been hard to read. Kurt had always thought Tina was the one who cared more in the relationship, just like he had been with Blaine. There were only so many risks he could take. He already had his career, his dad’s health, his friends’ failures, and he couldn’t add the risk of Blaine cheating again onto it.   
Hey I have some news u might not like. Rachel  
What? Kurt  
It’s Blaine.  
Is he okay?  
He’s coming with Sebastian.  
Wtf?  
“Excuse me, we’re about to take off. You need to put away your phone,” snapped the flight attendant. She said it twice before Kurt could hear her.

Tina straightened her dress and smiled at her boyfriend. This high school reunion was going to be incredible. She was finally bigger than Jesus, starring in a sitcom about doctors in a hospital. Her character was originally ‘Hot Asian #4,’ but the casting crew liked her so much they gave her a recurring, and then a permanent, and then a starring role on the show. Tina was coming home a success. And where was everyone else? Mr. Schue was facing sexual harassment charges, Rachel was teaching Glee, Finn was…gone, Kurt was a backup singer or something on Broadway, Blaine was acting in indie movies (Tina still called Blaine every time she read something about him in the paper, and Blaine returned the favor), Quinn was married to Puck, a stay at home mom, Puck was cleaning pools, Brittany and Santana were filming some kind of reality show pilot on Lesbos, Artie was directing second rate music videos, Mike was taking a break from Cirque de Soleil for a year, Mercedes was releasing her second album and Sam was modeling for Calvin Klein jeans. Chad tugged Tina’s arm.   
“Where’d you go?” he grinned.  
“Nowhere,” Tina said honestly. “I’m right here with you. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”  
“Then I can’t wait to meet them. The people who inspired you.”  
Tina didn’t consider that to be exactly true but she smiled anyway.

“Sam! You look amazing,” said Rachel. “And Mercedes, congrats on the…album.” Sam and Mercedes pretended not to notice Rachel’s wince when she said the word.  
“Thanks,” said Mercedes. “What about you?”  
“Oh, I’ve just been here,” said Rachel vaguely, waving a hand around the school, “inspiring young minds and hearts.”  
“And ears,” added Sam. Rachel’s laugh was strained.   
“Like Mr. Shue,” said Mercedes.   
“Like Mr. Shue,” repeated Rachel.  
“Want to come with us? We’re going to see our old lockers,” Sam offered.   
“I see them every day,” said Rachel, but she was a sucker for nostalgia and she couldn’t resist following them out of the auditorium. Mercedes and Sam held her hands and she felt more like the Rachel they remembered her as.


	3. Sebastian and Blaine: Flashback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seblaine

“Can I talk to you?” Sam mumbled, lingering at the door, hands stuffed in his pockets.  
“Don’t ask, just go in!” a voice commanded from the hallway. Kurt sighed. Tina.  
“What?” snapped Kurt. “I’m doing my moisturizing routine.”  
“Sit down,” Santana commanded. “I say this out of love- well not love for you, but for Blaine-“  
“For the last time, our relationship is nobody’s business!” yelled Kurt.  
“You don’t have a relationship,” said Sam. “You dumped him.”  
“He cheated on me!”  
“You don’t have a relationship with him,” continued Tina. “You don’t get to show up at his apartment at three AM-  
“Look, Hummel, I don’t know why nobody has ever said this to you,” interrupted Santana. “Maybe it’s because you’re gay. Well, I’m gay too, so I can say it. You’re an asshole, Kurt. You’re the male Rachel only worse because no one ever calls you on it. You’ve been an asshole for a while now.”  
“Excuse me?” Kurt glanced around at Sam, squinting at him, at Tina’s baleful stare, at Mercedes’ lowered glance… “Did Blaine put you up to this?”  
“He’s our friend!” snapped Mercedes. “He didn’t need to.”  
“And we share an apartment,” said Sam. “I didn’t need to hear him begging you to stay at four AM. You don’t get to do that anymore.”  
“This is insane,” said Kurt. “I didn’t do anything wrong!”  
“Look, just stay away from Blaine, okay?” said Santana. “It’s over. Accept it. Move on.”  
As they filed out Kurt rubbed his forehead and reached for his phone. What the fuck, Blaine?

“One, two, three. Plie. One, two, three, pirouette. Four, five, six…” Blaine chanted, watching his shadow dance.  
“Nice job, killer. I heard you went here.”  
“Sebastian!”  
Sebastian stood at the door, arms crossed, grinning. Blaine wanted to ruffle his hair. He had forgotten how much he liked having friends around. How much he liked getting compliments that weren’t backhanded (Rachel said your performance was great but she was so busy getting ready for hers, I doubt she saw it or wow, Blaine, are you storing up hair gel for the apocalypse? Or lose the bow ties, Blaine? Or wow, Carmen really likes you, doesn’t she?)  
“Can I buy a coffee?” asked Sebastian, flashing a Gucci wallet. “We both know you don’t need to practice.”  
Blaine rolled his eyes. “Of course I do.”  
Sebastian moved towards Blaine and linked Blaine’s arm with his. “Of course you don’t. now let’s go. I wouldn’t to make Princess Buttercup nervous.”  
“We broke up,” muttered Blaine.  
Sebastian stole a sideways glance at Blaine. “I know,” he said softly. “I was just making sure.”  
Blaine blinked. “Why?”  
Sebastian pushed him into a booth and went to order, slamming the two coffees down on the table.  
“God, Sebastian, this coffee is awful-“  
“What’s wrong with you?” snapped Sebastian.  
“What?”  
“You’re Blaine Anderson! You were the king of Dalton! Then you went to McKinley and you won them a National Championship. Twice. Then you got into NYADA, sung for the Fall Showcase…Blaine, you’re fucking perfect. And you’re stuck pining away over some jealous pasty faced loser who dumped you because he didn’t have the time to deal with a boyfriend! Blaine, look at yourself. You own this town.”  
Kurt knew Blaine’s coffee order by heart, down to the last sugar packet. Sebastian didn’t know how Blaine liked his coffee. He got them both unadorned bitter black coffees, strong as hell, and yelled at him. Kurt spoke in a falsetto that sometimes sounded so contrived it made Blaine cringe. Sebastian just spoke.  
“God, this coffee really is bad,” said Sebastian finally.  
Blaine shook his head. “Terrible, really.”  
They were quiet.  
“So what are you doing in New York?”  
“I’m prelaw at Columbia.”  
“Wow, Sebastian, that’s…wait, so you live here?”  
“I live in the Carlton right now. I’m still looking for apartments.”  
Blaine raised his eyebrows.  
“What? Where am I supposed to stay?”  
“Well, thanks for coming to NYADA,” said Blaine. “I’m not sure why you did. I thought you hated me-“  
“Seriously?” Sebastian stood up. “You really thought I hated you?”  
“Well…”  
“Kurt really did a number on you, didn’t he?” muttered Sebastian. “I got to go. See you around, killer.”  
“You tried to blind me,” said Blaine.  
“I was a fucking mess of a person then. I’m not that guy anymore. And to be fair, I was only trying to blind Lady Butterface.”  
Blaine laughed unwillingly.  
“I’m glad you aren’t blind,” said Sebastian awkwardly. “I just wish you could see me. I’ve changed. God, that was cheesy. I’m out of here.”  
Blaine watched Sebastian hail a cab and turned Sebastian’s coffee cup around.  
KILLER said the label on his coffee. KILLER’S DATE said the label on Sebastian’s. 

“Hello?”  
“Sebastian, it’s Blaine.”  
“Blaine?”  
“How many Blaines do you know?”  
“Just one. I didn’t think he would call.”  
“He…I wanted to ask you something.”  
“I can’t share my hair gel with anyone.”  
“No, not that. Look, I’m sure you’ve probably blown every guy in Manhattan-“  
“excuse me?”  
“Come on,” sighed Blaine.  
“No, you come on,” said Sebastian, suddenly cold. “Was I supposed to be waiting for you or something?”  
Without thinking Blaine hung up the phone.


	4. Brittana: Flashback

“I slept with Quinn,” whispers Santana.   
“Quinn?” snaps Brittany and she never snaps but she’s furious because it’s Quinn and she’s a friend and could actually replace Brittany and fuck-  
Brittany remembers a few weeks after the breakup calling up Santana  
“Santana, we can do an…open relationship. You can sleep with whoever you want, I won’t care, I promise, just don’t…break up with me,” Brittany pleaded.  
“I would never do that to you,” said Santana.   
“But this is worse.”  
“I just don’t want you to be missing me all the time.”  
There was a small mewing sound on the other end of the line and Santana realized that Brittany was crying. Britt never cried, Britt let her cry, Britt never cried because she knew Santana couldn’t handle it, Britt never cried because Santana had always tried to make her happy and now she had made Brittany cry.   
“What do you want me to do?” whispered Santana.  
“Come home,” said Brittany.  
Santana was quiet, Brittany knew it wasn’t fair of her to ask Santana to do this and-  
“I can’t,” Santana said.  
Santana sings Nutbush City Limits and she dances incredibly and she didn’t tell Brittany she was coming and she’s using her sarcastic I don’t give a fuck voice on Brittany that she never uses and Brittany wishes Santana never came back.  
Sam is scared of Santana. Not because Santana is mean to him, though she is, not because Santana invades his space and challenges him to a singing duel, though she does, not because Santana is beautiful and fierce and funny and finally out of the closet (but she is, god, she is) but because Santana could easily take Brittany away with her and she knows it.  
Brittany isn’t the jealous type. She has never seen Santana look at anyone the way she looks at Brittany, not Quinn, not Dani (from what Kurt has told her), not Elaine…Santana tells Brittany everything. They were never any boundaries between them. Not physical, emotional-  
But Quinn and Santana make an odd kind of sense together. They are boss bitches, devastatingly beautiful, share a past, are smart and ambitious and understand each other from dancing so closely together for so many years. “I knew whether Santana was going to shimmy or shake based on the slightest tilt in her eyebrows,” Brittany remembers Quinn telling the new Glee kids.   
Partly it’s Finn’s death, which nobody likes to talk about, but which has drilled a hole in all of them, making them more reckless, more vulnerable and more prepared for disaster. Quinn and Santana both slept with Finn, both respected his leadership qualities, both insulted him on a very deep level and did him wrong, yet remained friends 78% of the time. Finn cried when he dumped Quinn. Finn bought Santana dinner after she slept with him. Finn visited Quinn in Yale when he had been kicked out of the army, before he saw anyone, even Rachel, because he needed someone to talk to who would respond logically, without the onslaught of emotional chaos Rachel was sure to bring.   
“Oh my God, Finn!” Quinn was shocked, Finn could see it in her eyes, but she was also pleased. “Come in! what are you doing here?”  
Quinn’s single was sparse and neat, bare walls and Quinn’s pastel pink comforter from home. “What are you going to do?” asked Quinn softly, at the end, placing a hand on him. Finn shook his head.   
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, and Quinn wrapped her arms around him tightly and they lay down together, which was something they did sometimes when they were lonely, something Rachel didn’t need to know about, something that wasn’t about sex but about comfort and familiarity and looking into someone you love’s eyes and knowing they love you back, even if that love has changed over the years…Finn could cry in front of Quinn without feeling like he was disappointing her.   
“Finn, you need to come to New York,” said Santana briskly. “Rachel’s dating a prostitute. I bought you a ticket.”  
Finn didn’t even need to answer. They both knew he would be on that plane, even if it was a stupid thing to do on both their parts. Rachel was an adult but Santana and Finn both found comfort in regressing to the high school machinations and petty deceptions that greased the wheels of the daily Glee drama and even if Finn and Rachel had broken up he still cared about her-  
“Come on, I’ll buy you dinner,” said Santana, waiting in the terminal.   
“You look good,” said Finn.   
“Come on, I always look good,” teased Santana.   
“No, I mean you look…calmer, somehow. Happier.”  
Santana elbowed him and took him to a Noodle Bar near the apartment and they ordered four different kinds of pasta and talked and laughed and Finn had way more fun than he thought he would have and he felt lucky. Seeing Santana and Quinn- all his different, faithful friends- had released a great weight in him.   
Quinn and Santana made a warped kind of sense. They missed Finn. Everyone did. Rachel had Funny Girl to distract herself and Quinn and Santana had each other. There was nothing to distract Brittany from the gaping hole Finn and Santana’s absence left in her life. She wondered if Santana was at Yale now, lying in bed with Brittany, discussing the smartest things, holding hands, giggling, intimidating everyone-  
“I want you,” Brittany said honestly. “I’ve seen the world and I know now more than ever that I belong with you.”  
Santana was teary eyed at the thought of Brittany’s affection. No one knew that at night Santana would hold her hand tightly and remember her abuela to Brittany. No one knew that Santana was sweet in a relationship, sending Brittany chocolates from Kentucky, waiting up for Brittany after Booty Camp with a hot bath and Chinese takeout. No one knew that often Brittany initiated any intimacy between them because Santana was sometimes shy and no one else knew what to do when she was being distant. No one knew the surprised laugh Santana squeaked out when Britt astonished her. No one knew the way Santana sometimes had to be taken care of after sex, nuzzled and snuggled and reassured. No one knew the way Santana’s support of Brittany- constant, unending, loyal faith- had given Brittany a safe place to grow. No one knew Santana could have orgasm after orgasm for hours and never stop wanting Brittany. No one knew about the strained breathy way Santana whispered things to her in the morning, no one knew Santana’s fears and panic so well as Brittany, no one knew the way Santana devoted herself to exploring every aspect of Brittany’s body until she could make Brittany’s knees go weak with a stare, her heart stop with a touch, her head a blur with a kiss…no one knew Santana like Brittany did. Except maybe Quinn. The thought tortured Brittany, kept her up at night, made her want to steal some of Lord Tubbington’s drugs, made her angry and sad when she didn’t want to be, broke her heart and kept stabbing her with the shattered pieces every time she thought about it.   
But then Quinn came back and she had Biff and then she had Puck and Santana was alone, stalking through the halls like a model, facing off against Rachel like a tigress, waiting for Brittany to finish her chess games, telling her MIT couldn’t contain her, dancing with her, fleeting touches that made Brittany’s body wake up again and all Brittany wanted was Santana and her heart was already broken so it couldn’t hurt to try-  
When Santana invited her to New York permanently Brittany nodded and Santana teared up. “I’m happiest when I’m with you,” Santana told her. “I’m at my best with you.”  
“You’re always the best,” said Brittany.  
“You’re always the best,” said Santana.   
There were no words needed between them. The world had been tilted and now it was placed upright. Everything had been out of sync and now it fit together again. Santana held Brittany’s hand as they watched the choir room get emptied out. They visited Finn’s grave and Brittany let Santana cry on her until there were no more tears left. Santana practiced Brittany’s dance moves with her until the wee hours of the morning. Santana brought Brittany to Mercedes as a backup dancer. Together they were perfect. Together they were home. Together they were at their best.


	5. Brittana Flashbacks

The first Santana kissed Brittany was after they won their first Cheerleading Championship in ninth grade. The afterparty was thrown by the football players and attended by the cheerleaders and slightly tipsy, Santana had pulled Brittany and her rakishly askew uniform skirt into the bathroom to straighten her hair. They were giggling and Brittany had lowered herself to the floor of the bathroom dizzily when Santana sat next to her, took her hand and massaged it gently. Brittany paid attention. When Santana touched her Brittany knew she was trying to say something.   
“Do you think-“ started Brittany when Santana kissed her and it was beautiful and everything she expected it to be and somehow they made it to home to Brittany’s house and just held hands excitedly until they fell asleep.   
In the morning Brittany woke up to find Santana shoving her crumpled uniform into her bag and trying to slip out the door silently in Brittany’s unicorn pajamas.   
“Santana?”  
“I have to go,” muttered Santana distractedly.   
“What’s going on?”   
“Nothing!” snapped Santana. “I just have to go.”  
“Okay,” said Brittany slowly. “Do you want to come over later?”  
Santana shrugged. “I’m having dinner with Puckerman,” she said.   
“Wh-what do you mean?”  
“We made plans.”  
“But-“  
“Look, Britt, I really have to go, okay?”  
Brittany blinked.   
“Look, just, I’ll see you in school, okay?”  
And Santana was gone and that was the first time she tried to pretend Brittany didn’t matter.

How many hours have I spent in my room with Lord Tubbington waiting for Santana to text me what’s up which was code for can I come over? Brittany wondered.   
How many times have I bit my nails watching Santana saunter down the hallways with her hand in Puck’s back pocket?  
How many times have I tried to go over to Santana in school and just talk only to have her push me away?  
How many times have I promised I would never let her come over again? How many times have I broken that promise?

After that first kiss things took on a routine. Santana came over at least once a week, came into Brittany’s room, crawled into bed with her, took up all the air in the room, swamped Brittany and listened to her talk about Lord Tubbington and giggled at Brittany’s jokes no one else laughed at and told Brittany secrets about her parents no one else knew and talked about how much she hated Sue and sometimes Quinn and took out her rage on Brittany’s pillows and tickled Brittany and sometimes just lay parallel to her in bed without touching just watching Brittany’s face like it was the most fascinating movie in the world.   
“Santana…what are you doing here?” asked Brittany. “It’s late.”  
Santana pushed past her into the room, trying not to cry at the sight of Brittany’s sleep rumpled hair, trying not to fall apart at the idea of Brittany sleeping with her phone so she could creep downstairs and open the back door for Santana just in case Santana texted.   
Santana softly pushed Brittany down onto her bed.   
“Wh-what are you doing?” whispered Brittany. Santana usually didn’t like to talk when she came over so late at night. Usually she tried to apologize to Brittany by planting sweet butterfly kisses on her neck and down her back and breathing sweetly into Brittany’s face.   
The first time Santana went down on Brittany was the summer after they joined Glee club. Hot summer night, both of them sleeping in just a bra and shorts, bodies coated with a thin shield of sweat, Santana giggling uncontrollably as Brittany tickled her because the summer months, being out of school, being away from everyone, in their own world, just them two, made Santana so much calmer and slower and more talkative and lazier and willing to stay in bed all day and let Brittany feed her strawberries and caress Brittany’s hair and pay attention to her genius and remind her of how smart she was and take the time to figure out Brittany’s jokes the way no one else did.   
“Is this okay?” Santana whispered to Brittany, slipping a gentle hand into Brittany’s shorts.   
Brittany nodded softly, knowing how hard it was for Santana to articulate anything while they were together like this, but knowing Santana liked it when Brittany told her how she felt even if Santana couldn’t return the favor yet. Maybe one day.   
Brittany was soaking wet. Santana’s lips quirked up in the faintest approximation of a smile.   
“I want you,” mumbled Brittany, embarrassed.  
Santana buried her head in Brittany’s chest and Brittany could feel Santana’s teary eyes on her stomach before Santana roughly pulled down Brittany’s shorts and looked up at Brittany before throwing herself into Brittany with gusto, exploring every part of her, memorizing every sound Brittany made, loving the feel of Brittany’s hands on her head, the smell of Brittany, the feel of the cheerleading muscles she and Brittany had slaved for together while Sue watched next to her cheeks, the satiny smooth skin that shook and melted around Santana, the warm body that never said no to her, that let her keep coming back even though she was an awful bitch, the brilliant, funny, beautiful owner of said body that liked her enough to let her get to know it, the way it felt to make Brittany cum into her mouth, the way Brittany shuddered when Santana took her clit between her teeth, the way Brittany sucked in halting breaths at the way Santana licked and touched and fingered her, the way Brittany went limp and boneless afterward and Santana licked her lips and kissed Brittany everywhere and let Brittany sleep on her.   
When Brittany tried to return the favor Santana pushed her away.   
“I don’t want that!” said Santana even though Brittany knew she was lying, that Santana was just as wet as she was, that there was nothing Santana wanted more but Brittany let the lie hang in the air because she didn’t know what else to do. Santana shoved her feet into her flip flops and pulled on a sweatshirt.   
“Come on, Santana, you can stay,” said Brittany.   
“Don’t touch me!”  
“Okay,” said Brittany, defeated, slumping back down into her bed.   
Santana didn’t mean to slam the door behind her but she did. She ignored Brittany for a week after that.   
On the first day of school Santana came over to her and they were friends again.

After the Glee club won Regionals Santana went home with Brittany. Under the covers Santana underdressed herself and turned off all the lights while Brittany waited.   
“You’re gorgeous,” said Brittany. “Can I-“  
“Yes,” said Santana throatily, watching Brittany position herself between her legs.   
“Is this okay?” asked Brittany.   
Santana nodded.   
Brittany placed a finger inside Santana’s trembling body. Santana threw her arm over her eyes.   
“You make me happy,” Santana admitted later, in the silence of the nighttime, esconsced in the warmth of Brittany’s affections. Brittany didn’t say anything. Most of the time Santana made her miserable with longing and fear, the furthest thing from happiness she knew. But it was worth it, for moments like this. All those hours were worth it. 

Britney/Brittany  
Santana drove Brittany home, idling the car in front of her house.   
“What’s the matter?” she asked.   
“I don’t,” muttered Brittany, staring straight ahead.   
“Don’t what?”  
“Have bad teeth. I mean, I brush my teeth and-“  
“I don’t think you do,” said Santana gently. “I mean, Berry and Stubbles also have awful teeth and they’re way too self absorbed to even remember to brush most days.”  
Brittany laughed unwillingly. “I just wanted to tell you that,” said Brittany, staring uncomfortably into the distance. “So you wouldn’t think I was gross and not want to…hang out anymore.”  
Santana’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “Lots of people hang out. It doesn’t mean anything.”  
“But-“  
“Look, I forgot my bag at school. I gotta go,” said Santana abruptly.   
Santana poked her head out of her car window as Brittany walked up her driveway.   
“Your teeth are fine!” Santana shouted, and Brittany grinned.   
Duets  
The last boy Brittany had kissed had been Kurt. Artie was sweet, gentle, grateful, quiet, nothing like Santana. His naked body was frail, his penis hanging between his legs, his arms reaching out to touch her, even when she said shh let me in his ear so Artie lay back and the whole thing was over in two minutes and Artie was grinning and Brittany’s bed, the safest place in the world for Santana, was ruined forever.   
“Are you okay?” whispered Artie.  
“I’m fine,” said Brittany. “I just have to walk Lord Tubbington.”  
“I’ll come with you,” said Artie.   
“Fine,” said Brittany snappishly, pretending like she had forgotten about his chair, waiting for him to ask her for help, and there it was-  
“Could you just…my chair is over there…”

The next day Santana cornered Brittany in the bathroom.   
“What? So are you two, like, dating now?” Santana snapped, after kicking each bathroom door to make sure the stalls were all empty.   
“Kind of,” mumbled Brittany.   
“Kind of?”  
“You didn’t want to do a duet with me!” said Brittany, feeling perilously close to tears.   
“I can’t,” said Santana. “I wanted to.”  
“You did one with Mercedes,” Brittany pointed out.   
“Nobody thinks about me and Mercedes!”  
“Fine,” mutters Brittany. “Then let no one think anything about us.”

Brittany feels sorry for Artie, with his tiny useless robot body, with his easy manner- used to just getting wheeled around- but he is nothing like Santana, who scares everyone, even Brittany sometimes.   
In the summer Brittany is Santana’s bodyguard. Santana sleeps with every single guy on the football team. They don’t kiss in front of guys anymore. They stopped doing that threesome thing a while ago. At least Santana didn’t want to ruin their thing by bringing an audience into it. Their last sort of threesome was with Puck after their double date.   
“I don’t feel so great,” mumbled Brittany, stumbling on Puck’s front lawn, braless.  
Santana rescued her from falling because she knew exactly what Brittany was feeling and she had made herself promises that Brittany would never have to and she had broken them. Brittany had watched Santana fuck Puck and had downed shot after shot.  
“Hey, you two can crash here if you want,” offered Puck from the porch.   
“I’m taking her home,” snapped Santana.   
Puck hopped off the porch and helped Santana get Brittany lying down in the backseat of her car.  
“Well, you can crash here,” said Puck. “I have a kegger. Could be fun.”  
Santana shrugged. “Maybe I will,” she said, driving away. 

After Santana had gotten Brittany into the shower, had held her beautiful blonde hair as she dry heaved into the toilet, had found a mop and cleaned up the excess vomit, had wrapped Brittany in a towel like a hot dog and soaked all of her clothes so there wouldn’t be any grass stains left on them. Santana pulled back the covers and rooted through Brittany’s drawers for some underwear.  
“Here,” Santana said, tossing them to Brittany.  
Brittany shrugged weakly so Santana lay her down and lifted her legs and slowly pulled her underwear up and gently kissed her on the stomach. Tucked in, warm and dry, drfting off to sleep, Brittany grabbed the edge of Santana’s coat.  
“Are you going back to Puck’s?”  
Santana shrugged. “Probably.”  
Santana wanted Brittany to protest, wanted Brittany to beg her to stay, but Britt had already done that too many times and she was asleep by the time Santana left.   
The Purple Piano Project  
Santana didn’t love the Glee club the way Brittany did. Santana didn’t feel like they were part of a family, from Finn, the gross blubbery whale that was inexplicably the leader, despite not being able to sing or dance, to Rachel, who told her ‘the only job you’re going to have is on a pole!’ the Glee club was one of the topics that Brittany and Santana disagreed on.   
Where r u?  
Auditorium…where r u?  
In your room in your bed  
Come to glee  
Berry will live w/o u  
Just say you’re sorry to Mr. S  
So you’re not coming?  
I can’t  
Fine  
I Am Unicorn  
You are the unicorn, Brittany.  
You are the unicorn. Brittany.   
You are my unicorn, Britt.   
You are mine, Britt.  
The words swirled around in Brittany’s head.  
“You think I should run?” she asked Santana later, cross legged on her bed, doodling on her math homework.   
“You would crush him,” said Santana. “I’ll help you. Promise.”  
Brittany stood behind Santana and beamed at her.   
“What?” said Santana.   
“You get me,” said Brittany.   
Santana turned to face her. “You get me too,” she said. “Should we do this?”  
They shook pinkies on it and the rest of the evening was a quiet blur of premature celebration.   
I Kissed A Girl  
Santana never took off the VOTE FOR BRITTANY pin she had designed for Brittany, even when everyone stared, even when they noticed the way she wore it over her heart, even when the footballers yelled “Lezzie!” at her as she crossed the field with her crew of cheerleaders who already knew about Santana and Brittany, had known for a while and didn’t care.   
This meant rushed after game makeouts in the showers, sweaty handholding pre games, and one time, a slow, grinning strip tease from Santana as she took off the polyester bit by bit before yanking Brittany into the shower. Santana was the queen of Brittany’s world. She was the best thing there was, better than chocolate or time travel.   
Later, collapsed in a sweaty heap on the floor of the dirty shower Brittany kissed Santana slowly and sweetly. “I know how hard it was kissing me in front of Jacob ben Israel,” Brittany said.  
“It wasn’t hard,” said Santana, throwing a hand over her eyes. “It would have been harder not to. Britt, I’m tired of fighting. I love you, and what else is there…are you crying?”  
“I’m just happy,” sniffled Brittany. “Really happy. Promise me you won’t ever leave me. I couldn’t take it. Lord Tubbington would miss you too much.”  
“I won’t,” whispered Santana back and then Mr. Kinney the janitor was coming to close the lights and they got dressed in a jumble of each other’s clothes, giggling as they ran barefoot down the halls to the parking lot.   
Ballad  
Quinn could have asked Finn to got to the pharmacy with her. Quinn could have asked Puck to go to the pharmacy but being with either of them was exhausting so Quinn went to get her vitamins alone. Waiting in the pharmacy line was Santana and Brittany, holding hands and whispering to each other.   
They looked…calm. They weren’t wearing makeup or heels, just sweatpants, and they looked so tightly entwined that their talking seemed almost redundant. Quinn watched Santana press little mouse kisses onto Brittany’s arm.   
“Girls,” the cashier greeted them.   
Santana cleared her throat but Brittany spoke.   
“We need some Plan B,” Brittany said.   
The pill was plunked down on the counter next to them.   
“That’s thirty nine dollars.”  
Brittany reached for her wallet but Santana grabbed her hand.   
“I got it,” said Santana in a rusty voice.  
“Now, you may experience nausea or cramps after taking-“ started the cashier.  
“We know,” said Santana, linking arms with Brittany, turning to go, abruptly bumping into Quinn.   
“Brittany,” said Quinn. “Santana. I didn’t expect to…see you here.”  
Santana’s face was pale.  
“We have to go,” said Brittany quickly, pushing Santana past the door. “We’ll see you at cheer practice.”  
“I’m not on the team anymore,” snapped Quinn shortly, but Brittany and Santana were already gone, too wrapped in each other and their own drama to care. It all made sense, Brittany’s quiet, stoic attitude when she watched Santana lower herself into guys’ laps, Santana’s play wrestling with Brittany when the team was running sprints, Santana’s leering at Brittany’s dancing…  
Quinn had never felt so alone.


End file.
